


In Our Bedroom After the War

by somedumbindiething



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M, starts slow gets cute gets kinda really smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedumbindiething/pseuds/somedumbindiething
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You said this was a civilized town,” said Dick.<br/>“Aw, shut up.”</p><p>Nixon takes Dick to Chicago and is pained to find a life after the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Bedroom After the War

**Author's Note:**

> for Team Currahee v2 in the HBOwarathonv2; this is a work of fiction, no monetary gain, based on actors' portrayals in the HBO series, all that business

“You said this was a civilized town,” said Dick.

“Aw, shut up.”

Nixon pulled himself out of bed and tried to open his eyes. His entire body felt like a giant scab, all clammy and clotted, and his undershirt was near-translucent with sweat. Of course Dick was already dressed, and of course he looked so polished and prim, standing like a question mark by the door, all sharp creases and neat angles. The man looked like he was coming to pick up Nix for prom.

“Can you give me 20 minutes, I need to, um…” Nix trailed off, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Shower,” said Dick with a grin. 

“Yes, that,” Nix replied, shuffling into the bathroom.

They had checked in not 2 hours before, and Nix felt like shit already. This trip to Chicago, the trip he’d promised Dick before the war even started for them, was supposed to be a glorious halfway point, the wedge that kept a space between his wartime life and his home life. In his mind this was the last opportunity to have a good time before he was back at work in New Jersey.

But the minute his cab pulled into the hotel’s long driveway and he met Dick in the lobby, Nix should have known this wasn’t going to be fun. The sort of intuition that he usually felt when these things occurred on dates hit him as he saw Dick in those overstuffed lobby chairs with a stack of brochures fanned out on the coffee table before him. Dick suggested museums, wanted to go to galleries, proposed architectural tours. The man wanted to learn to heaven’s sake.

Nix checked them into their rooms while Dick read, apparently heavily invested in a walking tour of the shorefront, with a deliberate quiet that Nix had come to expect but had never become comfortable with. They took the elevator up in near-silence, their own faces reflected back at them from all sides, the polished metallic interior warping and pulling their features into golden-brown shadows. The hallway had a similar stark nobility, two-tone silk papering the walls. Nix scanned them passively, searching for fraying and peeling at the edges. Everything was new and strange, too clean, too elegant, too together.

***

Nixon insisted they go out, somewhere nice but loud, with tall glasses and tall stools. He could tell that Dick wasn’t interested, didn’t want to meet people and play nice, but to his credit, Dick gave him a terse little smile and said, “Sure, Lew. I think I passed a place coming in from the station.”

They cleaned and shaved in their respective rooms. Nixon stepped out without turning off the shower and let the small bathroom fill with steam and the steady drum of running water. The mirror fogged up and Nix shaved by memory, using the stubble to guide his hand up and down across his face. Dick had changed into a suit while Nixon shaved, his hair suddenly bright red against the deep blue.

“Been waiting long?” Nix asked as he buttoned his shirt in the doorway.

Dick’s eyes crinkled at the edges and he smiled. “Not terribly. Did your room not have a mirror?”

Nix ran a hand over his face and frowned, noticing bristly spots for the first time.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not worth being late,” said Dick. He took Nix’s arm by the elbow and pulled him down the hallway. “I’ve called a cab, but the place isn’t too far. How long do you intend to stay out tonight?”

“Do I intend? Oh, I dunno, I’m already tired, but the night is young,” Nix said. He brushed his fingers against the wallpaper and leaned into his friend, smirking “When’s your usual bedtime?”

Dick shrugged, deciding to play along. “Well, I like to have my last glass of milk at 10 so I can be sleep by 10:30,” he said. “And will you be drinking this evening?” he added, prodding Nix with his elbow.

Nixon waved a hand regally. “I may dabble, you know how it is in these clubs, they’re dens of vice and temptation. I simply couldn’t tell you now if I can retain my customary sobriety.”

Dick scratched his neck. “I look forward to witnessing your restraint in action.” 

Nix pressed the button for the elevator. I wouldn’t hold my breath. 

***

“These women are all either married or neutered,” Nix muttered into his glass. The lady at the next booth glared at him over her shoulder. Dick rolled his eyes less subtly than he’d hoped. “What, you got an opinion?” Nix said, turning to face him.

The bar was larger than Dick had initially expected, and certainly more crowded. Washed with tinged-red and yellow light, patches of darkness lurked in booth and corners, hiding couples and private conversations. There were smart suits everywhere, chatting up women in groups or pairs, and everyone was holding a glass. Nixon had started right away, downing too much too quickly and launching himself at any woman nearby, plunging into war stories before he’d even asked her name. 

At first Dick had thought it was for effect, but as it wore on, Nixon going farther and farther out of his way to thrust himself between couples and buy drinks for strangers, he began to wonder. He was admittedly new to bars and clubs, but something told him that Nix was doing something wrong.

“Maybe you’re drinking a bit much?” Dick said, gesturing towards the group of glasses relegated to the end of the table.

“Maybe you’re not drinking enough? What is that, orange juice?” Nixon responded. He shot back up in his seat to address Dick, and planted his head against the back of the booth to steady himself. Nix concentrated on looking sober; furrowed brow, locked jaw, wide eyes. Dick shrugged. “Yes. And I’m feeling great.” 

“You’re feeling great? Well, care to share some of this greatness that you’re feeling?” Nix said, swivelling his head slightly.

“That’s it. I’m feeling good.” Dick took a sip from his juice and now it was Nixon’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“You’re constraining yourself. It’s a shame.” All the same, he put down his glass.

Dick shifted in his seat, spread his arm over Nix’s shoulders, leaned in; “I’m doing fine, Lew,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Nix regarded his glass with faux concentration. “Y’know, some people would say that this is half empty. This glass, I mean.” He turned up and stared at Dick with a raised eyebrow, “With me so far?”

Yes he was playing it up a bit, but how would Dick know any better?

“I’m with you,” said Dick. “Glass. Empty. Continue.”

Nix took a moment and flourished luxuriously. “Some people would say that this glass is half empty. Some people would say that it’s half full. Half empty, half full. Half empty, half full. See what I’m saying?”

This couldn’t all be the alcohol, Dick thought, it was too purposefully Nixon – the eyebrows, the waving, the repetition. Dick smiled despite himself and said, “I see it. Where are you going with this, Nix?”

Nix unbuttoned his suit jacket and collar and fanned himself. He settled himself into a more comfortable position under Dick’s arm, so he was now facing his friend from a few inches away. “Some say half full, some say half empty. Now Dick, my friend, my comrade, my ally, do you know what I say?” He lifted both eyebrows and stared, awaiting the major’s response.

Dick put a finger to his chin, as if deep in thought. Nixon felt the arm on his shoulder move, but it didn’t depart. It was comforting, as he was sure Dick knew; he was always comforting, always helping, always trying, always Nixon’s opposite. “Well,” he said, his tone steady, soothing, “I think you’d say it was half empty.”

Nix bolted back upright, startling Dick enough to make him drop his arm. “Aha! Incorrect!” he exclaimed. The woman in the next booth glared again, this time more aggressively. “You know what I would say, ol’ buddy of mine?” he asked, a smile spreading across his patchily shaved face. “What?” Dick asked, taking the bait.

“I’d say it’s fully empty.” Nix downed the glass in one gulp, letting it burn him from his ears to his stomach. He grinned through it, at once turning too quickly to see Dick’s response and was rewarded with a dizzying head rush.

“Cute,” said Dick, taking a sip of his juice and adjusting his suit jacket. 

Nixon scowled. “Fuck it. What time is it?” Nix put his glass down on the table with the others and his hand flew to his forehead, wiping away sweat. The evening was turning sour and his buzz was becoming an impairment; he couldn’t even look at his watch. Dick shook his sleeve and said, “Almost 12:30. Tired?”

Nix sighed, “Yeah.”

Dick nodded and said, “Me too. Should I call us a cab?”

Nix stood up and immediately the room jumped to one side. He stuck a hand out to steady himself and Dick took it, misinterpreting, and Nix snatched it away. The room was blurring but Dick’s concern and, what was that, disappointment?, was thrown into sharp detail. “Lew?”

“I think we should walk. I think I should walk. Walk. Walk it off. Does that make sense?” Nix pulled his suit jacket tighter, sliding in sweat that had bloomed at his hairline and the back of his neck, spreading in dark blossoms under his arms. Dick nodded, said, “Yeah, we’ll walk. Let’s go.” He pulled the captain to him and steadied him under his arm, leading them both towards the door, saying, “I’ve got you, buddy,” all the while. Nix smiled. They stepped out into the cool dark and took a few unsteady steps down the street.

The sky had become that strange yellow charcoal of midnight in cities, a colour that Dick was having trouble getting used to after nights of such absolute dark. Such a beautiful city, he thought, and so beautiful that it could be here, towers and glass and brick and beams and crown moulding and pipes, something so solid and stable and home even if it was far from home. “It’s a lovely night, Lew,” he said, letting out a low whistle.

Nixon nodded and pitched forward. “Real pretty,” he said, “fucking gem in the great treasure trove that is this glorious land o’ the free and home o’ the brave.”

“Sober enough for sarcasm?” said Dick, smiling.

In response, Nix bent double and held his head between his legs, squatting in the street for a solid minute, gasping. Dick looked around them. He could make out nothing in the shadows in the alleys, but he was growing uneasy all the same. Their hotel was only a few blocks down, and he was itching to get off the streets. “Lew are you alright?”

Nix panted “Are you telling me we left. We left without. That place without getting any water first?” He took a moment and then pushed himself back up, hands on haunches, and steadied himself. “I think I might throw up. I definitely am. I’m going to throw up. The question. The question is. Question of whether I throw up now or. Or. Or whether I do it later or. Maybe I’ll throw up tomorrow? Water would help?”

Dick took Nix’s arm and put it over his own shoulders, looping one of his own arms around the other man’s midsection. “You’re gonna be fine, Lew. You won’t throw up.”

Nix raised one eyebrow dramatically and said “Excuse me, but I think I know what I’m doing. At least. At least better than you do.” He leaned into Dick completely and tipped his head back, but he kept walking forward. “I remember when we first started training. I remember when. I remember we ate all that fucking spaghetti. Fucking spaghetti. He fucking hated you, huh,” which was less a question than a jab. 

“Yeah, I don’t think Captain Sobel liked any of us too much,” said Dick with a grin.

“We should say hello. You know he lives here?” said Nix, sticking an elbow into Dick’s ribs. “Wait until I sober up. Up a bit. A bit and then we can go out n’ look for him. 15 minutes, maybe 30. It’ll be like a. Like a reunion.” He paused to take a deep breath and swung his head back and forth, trying to get his bearings. All of the shops were closed, but bars and clubs teemed with people-noise and upstairs apartments spilled light onto the street from doorways or windowsills, warm rectangles of cream-coloured light behind the drapes. It was pretty in a strange way, not unlike those days in Hagenau when fires were lit and they were set up in their rooms, the shell of a city without its people. War did that; it gutted. It cored.

When their hotel came within sight, Nixon stopped walking and leaned against a storefront window. “You alright Lew?” Dick asked. Nix put up a hand and took a few deep breaths. “I’ll be fine. Just dandy. It’s a little warm inside of me. My shirt. But I’ll manage. I’m just going to need you to turn the other way for a minute. Just the minute if you don’t mind.”

Dick went to undo a button on Nix’s shirt, but he jolted backwards as Nix leaned all the way over and managed to sputter, “Turn!” before Dick realized what was about to happen and quickly obliged. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to hear anything else besides his friend retching. Just over a minute later, Nix wiped his mouth and stood back up. “Much better,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket, still thoroughly debauched and sweaty but much more stable. “You can turn back around now.”

***

Dick opened the door to Nix’s room for him and let the hallway light guide him to the switch inside the room. Nix went right into the bathroom and stuck his head under the faucet, guzzling water until his stomach filled and he needed to hold onto the countertop to brace himself as he brushed his teeth and washed his face. Stupid. Fucking asshole. Takes a friend out and comes back smelling like vomit. Lush. Boor. Shit. He’d ruined the trip entirely, wiped clean any hope he’d had of a reasonable time. A civilized town for civilized men. Damn damn damn. 

Nix stepped out of the bathroom to find Dick laying clothes out on the bed. “What’s this?” he said.

Dick looked sheepish but shrugged. “Your pyjamas. You should be in bed.”

“In bed? It’s only 1, Dick. The night is young!” Nix exclaimed with only a hint of irony.

“Yes, but you are not,” Dick said. He reached out and pulled Nix towards him. “Bed,” he said, and Nix could tell it was an order.

“I’m not going to sleep now. I’m clean but I’m sure as hell not ready to be sober yet,” said Nix, even as he looked at the bed longingly. Dick took hold of Nix’s lapels and traced the line down to the first button. “I think you’re done for the night, my friend.”

Dick eased Nix out of his jacket, all the while hearing the captain tell him off for being a prude, a bore, a parent. He undid the top buttons on Nix’s shirt with a few quick movements, 1 2 3, untucking the shirt and folding it tidily on the corner of the bed. “Do you sleep with your undershirt or without?” he asked, reaching for the hem.

Nix grabbed his hand before it could make contact. “With. And you?”

Dick smiled neatly. “With. And I also brought pyjamas.”

“Well, we’re quite the pair, aren’t we,” Nix said, letting the words linger in his mouth. Dick sighed. “I don’t trust you here all night, not the way you are now.”

“Relax, I’ll bring over the garbage pail and put a glass of water by the bed. I’ll be fine,” Nix said, but he didn’t move. He reached out and planted his hand on Dick’s shoulder and looked at him straight on. “Or,” he said, quietly, “you could stay over in here.”

Dick stared back, 2 seconds, 3, the air becoming warmer and colder around them before he dropped his gaze and hazarded a smile, said, “I’d feel better about it.”

Nix nodded. “OK. Bring your stuff in.” 

Dick stepped out to collect his things from the other room and Nix went to turn off the light and switch on the bedside lamp. He was still at least partly drunk, his head buzzing, but it was good buzz, a half-full kind of buzz. As Dick entered the room, Nix flung an arm around him and put on a smile. “This’ll be fun. Like Bastogne.”

Dick snorted. “Nothing is as fun as Bastogne,” he said. In the warm lamplight, he undressed quickly, briefly bare but for his underclothes and turned to face Nixon. “Are you getting ready?”

Nixon sputtered, “Oh, you’re sleeping in the bed?”

Dick shrugged. “It’s a one-bed room, Lew. We’ll keep sides. Scout’s honour,” he added, smirking.

Nix rolled his eyes and slid into bed. Of course Dick was a Scout. He switched off the lamp and heard Dick settle into bed in the spotty blackness that came before his eyes could adjust to the new dark.

Within a few minutes Nix had begun to breathe deeply, his mind drifting in that vague drunken tiredness that came and went in waves, sleep crashing in and then pulling back like tide, leaving moments of drowsiness caught up in patches of waking. He wanted to talk to Dick; he wanted to say something.

“Thank you,” he said. Dick turned to face him, but Nix was staring straight up at the ceiling. “Sorry?”

“You really helped me. Thank you,” murmured Nix into the dark.

“I’m sure if I was that out of it you would’ve helped me,” said Dick after a long pause.

Another pause and then, “Not for that. For everything else.”

Dick inhaled. “Oh,” he said flatly.

Nix could feel his ears burn even in the darkness. Stupid. Fucking stupid to pull something sappy out right now. Dammit.

Nix felt Dick’s hand on his arm and he turned to face him. They were only an inch apart, noses almost touching, and Nix suddenly felt very warm and very calm. He was falling from the sky but the ground seemed so far, so soft, so welcoming. Nixon touched the hand on his arm and cocked an eyebrow lazily. “Not really all that much like Bastogne, huh?” he said. 

Dick smiled. “No, not at all.” 

He blinked. Dick’s head sunk into the pillow, looking suddenly serene, all calm lines and warm curves, and Nix saw it as his head lying in snow – not the frigid hell of Bastogne but smooth lines of snow drifting from the front door to the driveway, snow covering the car, snow welling up by the windows, a sweetness and a softness that seemed to fit perfectly with his friend.

“This trip wasn’t so bad, huh?” he said, feeling Dick’s hand moving slowly and reassuringly up his arm.

Dick seemed to move almost imperceptibly closer, nearly but not quite tugging on Nixon’s bare arm. “No, it wasn’t. You did good, Nix. This was nice.” His mouth crinkled in a smile again, and Nix could see the lines by his eyes wrinkle in comfort. Dick reached up and moved a lock of dark hair from in front of Nix’s eyes, his hand drifting behind the captain’s ear, falling to the back of his neck and lingering there.

“Nix.”

The word was hardly spoken, more whispered, more breathed into Nixon’s mouth, their noses touching, their legs intertwined. Nix inhaled and was almost surprised that any air came out; he was suffocating, choking. It was so close it was terrifying.

“Dick,” he whispered. A question. They were pressed up against each other now, and Nix could taste the toothpaste on Dick’s breath.

Dick blinked. He nodded.

They moved together. Dick’s lips were so incredibly soft and forgiving, his body so warm, Nix was flushed with excitement. He could feel Dick pulling at him gently, the way spring pulls at winter, and he melted into his friend’s touch, their tongues sliding as tenderly as could be managed when Nix was still reeling from the initial touch. They were kissing now like two people who had been kissing all their lives; here they were just awakening, kissing in the manner of the very young and the very old, like bitterness was absent and they were tasting newness and sweetness and safety in every whisper of teeth on lips and tongue on tongue. Dick was holding him so closely and so firmly that Nix could hardly move to grab his friend’s face, arm, neck, hair, pull him farther into him, scraping his teeth against the major’s lips and snaking his tongue along his throat and collarbone. Dick gasped in pleasure, nestling his lips by the captain’s ears and running his tongue along their soft shell, down his neck and kissing his shoulders, his chest, helping him out of his shirt and removing his own, throwing them both at the foot of the bed. The two felt each other, hearts racing and chests blooming in sweat, from hardening nipples to stomachs brushed with hair, all lined with kisses and slick with saliva, smelling of Dick’s toothpaste and Nix’s shampoo.

Nixon smiled at Dick and kissed him before freeing him of his pyjama bottoms, letting the soft flannels curl by their feet. Dick pulled at him, pressing his groin into the captain until they both groaned and shook against each other, wanting. Nix steadied himself with a knee between Dick’s legs, silently pleading with himself that if this was to happen, it wouldn’t end before they were both completely satisfied. He took the major in his hand and let himself feel how hard he was, how much he responded to the touch, Dick bucking to catch more contact with Nix’s skin. Nix splayed his fingers across Dick’s leg, caressing the inside of his thigh and steadily stroking his friend’s cock, all the while a smile spreading across his face. From that angle, Dick was magnificent, his chest heaving up and down as he gasped for air, still shining with a layer of sweat and his red hair spread over his pillow like blood over snow. The image was sharp and Nixon fought to keep it out of his mind, to keep the war from prying him away from this moment of happiness.

Nix could feel precum slick on his fingers. He moved his hand away and Dick immediately pulled him down on top of him, kissing him all the while, pushing off Nix’s pants even as his cock pressed hard and powerful and present against the captain. Nix settled between Dick’s legs and rubbed experimentally against him, the two of them grinding together as their lips locked and their hands searched each other’s bodies like blind men. Nix’s cock was throbbing, his tongue swollen, but he wasn’t going to stop, not now when he could feel Dick clutching him and stroking, first slowly then quicker, panting in his ear. Bared and unguarded, the two rolled with their hands at each other’s groins and their tongues all over like ice cubes melting on hot skin, straining against the other, neither wanting to come first but both itching to keep going. Dick slid Nix up onto him and without warning took the captain from his hands to his mouth, wrapping his lips around Nix’s full cock and sucking along the length, letting the head rest heavily on his tongue. He pulled it in and out for what felt like a minute, Nix grabbing the headboard for stability as he watched his friend take him as far as he could, tongue snaking up and down the shaft. This was almost too much for Nixon to handle. Reaching down to grab hold of Dick’s cock, he pulled his own out of Dick’s mouth and stuck his tongue in its place, kissing as tenderly but as hard as he could handle without losing his grip. Nix rolled off him, settling in bed beside Dick and moving his hands from his friend’s groin to his legs, pulling, pulling, until they were again flush against each other, grinding with the kind of passion that Nix didn’t believe he was even capable of mustering. Their cocks wet with saliva and sweat and precum, Dick and Nix were almost sticking together, each groaning and shuddering and panting and kissing as they pressed, naked, over and over into the other. Nix could feel Dick reaching the edge, feel his friend’s body tensing and retreating to keep himself from coming, and he whispered into his ear “come for me.”

Dick released onto Nixon’s stomach and chest, and Nix couldn’t hold it any longer, coming hot and fast on the major and immediately pressing in to kiss him.

They lay together, lips locked and hands fluttering over bodies and faces, until eventually Nix had to pull apart for air. Smiling sheepishly, he reached down to the foot of the bed and wiped his friend’s chest clean with the cast aside undershirt and then his own before letting it fall to the floor and collapsing back onto the bed beside Dick. Dick wrapped an arm around him, pulled him into him.

Dick sighed. The air was warm and welcome, ruffling the hair by Nix’s ear.

Here was safety. Of this Nixon was certain; the two breathed together, smelling each other’s hair and sweat and hearing the other’s heartbeat slowing to a steady hum. Here, the war was over.


End file.
